


The Crow in a Cage

by orphan_account



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, F/M, Industrial Revolution, London Underground
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5540921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were going to get married to a man from the middle class, but not willingly. You were part of an arranged marriage, and your freedom was stolen. You didn't deserve to be in an arranged marriage, you could support yourself. You owned a bookshop and had a respectable amount of money, yet you had to get married to a man you didn't love. Where ever the hooded man -that occasionally read in your bookshop- was, he was still free, and you were in a cage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Literate Girl is a Lonely Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I'm StupidLegit! This is going to be my 2nd Jacob Frye/Reader, and I've tossed with this idea for a while. My idea was about an arranged marriage. If anybody thinks that arranged marriage is a topic that is too deep to write about, then you shouldn't read this.

You occupied the counter of your bookshop, awaiting a customer. Your hands were holding a couple of Charles Dickens' new works, they were meant to be stacked on a bookshelf near the entrance of the shop. You began walking near the bookshelves, maneuvering through the shop. The books in your hands seemed heavier than before, causing you to drop the stack of novels on the wooden floor. You bent down to collect the novels, cursing yourself as you examined the books' newly crumpled pages. The door of your bookshop opened, and a man walked into your bookshop.

"Hello (Y/N), do you need help?" The man asked, causing you to hold back an insult. You identified the man in your peripheral vision, he was going to be the groom of your arranged marriage. You picked up David Copperfield, trying to hide the crumpled pages. The ink on the pages had smudged together, causing the words to change into a black blotch on the paper.

"No, I'm fine Brandon." You replied, collecting the books and setting them on the unoccupied counter. You knew you would have to buy the novels again, but the trouble of buying a Charles Dickens' novel would be the least of your problems.

"I was just checking up on my wife." Brandon explained, observing the small bookshop. It was fairly neat, aside from some boxes that were set to the corners of the shop. There were novels inside them, each meant for different bookshelves, though you hadn't had the time to put them on their bookshelves.

"We're not engaged yet, and you don't need to check up on me." You stated, your eyes fixated on the newly damaged Oliver Twist, which was now going to be sent back to Charles Dickens. You wanted to forget about the damaged book, so you let your eyes trail from the novel to Brandon, who wasn't listening to you anymore.

Brandon Abbot was a fairly tall man, about 5'11. He had light, fern green eyes with a touch of royal blue outlining his pupils. His dark, raven black hair was well-groomed, though it occasionally peered into his vision. He wore a fog grey coat overtop his wine red shirt, which had a damask pattern stitched onto it. Brandon held a golden pocket watch inside one of his coat's pockets, which made it's presence known due to it's chain hanging out of the pocket.

"We'll be engaged in three months, and it's a husbands' role to check on the wife." Brandon contradicted, causing you to disregard the comment. You knew Brandon didn't like women's rights, and he made that very obvious. He rarely ever addressed you by your name, he used 'wife' and 'woman' instead. Though you hated the awaiting marriage to Brandon, you needed to get married.

Brandon was part of the middle class, his family having links with the Disraeli's. You didn't have much connections, aside from a street gang known as The Rooks, and two children named Waylon Lockett and Clara O'Dea who served as the voice for the children of London. Though you were part of the middle class, you needed to marry Brandon to live a steadier life, even though you had managed a bookshop for three years.

"That depends on how the husband and wife views the marriage." You retorted, before stepping to the boxes near the far left corner of the shop, planning to arrange the books inside them. You gestured Brandon to help you, causing Brandon to scoff.

"Me and my mates need to go to The Stuffed Pig Pub, you can put your novels on the bookshelves alone." Brandon explained, before walking out of your bookshop. You lifted up a box, silently cursing to Brandon. You counted the bookshelves that needed more books, counting seven in total. You walked to a bookshelf, placed the box in your hands onto the wooden floor beneath you, and began setting books onto the bookshelf. Before you could finish stacking the novels, there was a creak that indicated the door to the bookshop opening.

"Anybody 'ere?" A British voice asked, causing you to stop organizing the books on the bookshelf. You peered at the customer, smiling as you saw Frederick Abberline and his colleague, though you had never seen Frederick with this man. You greeted the two men, though you felt skeptical about this new man with Frederick.

"Yes, I am. Hello Mr. Abberline." You greeted the policeman, who smiled at you.

"Hello (Y/N), allow me to introduce my newest colleague, Jacob Frye." Frederick explained, clasping onto his colleagues shoulder, which was now known to be Jacob Frye. Jacob's clothes implied he was part of the middle class, though he didn't care, which seemed odd. In London, everyone cared about where they were in the hierarchy, due to the advantages of each stage of the hierarchy.

The lower class would walk barefoot on the cobbles of London, rummaging through the trash that rats and other animals left. At night, they would go to the Thames tunnel -which was commonly known as the Thames sewers- where the lower class would sleep in the cold darkness, awaiting the morning. The middle class would walk around London, able to enter a pub or restaurant, and order any food they pleased. At night, they would go back to their homes, were they would sleep in their beds, awaiting another day of luxuries. The gentry were at the top of the hierarchy, causing them to have the best luxuries in all of London. They would be treated to foods of their choices, and go around London in a carriage protected by their guards. At night, they would go to their beds, awaiting another day of unspeakable luxuries.

"Good evening Mr. Frye, I'm (Y/N)." You greeted Jacob, who slightly smiled. Jacob had light, parakeet green eyes, with a touch of chestnut brown outlining his pupils. He had a respectable stubble, with a scar on the right of it that matched the scar on his left eyebrow.

"We'll only be 'ere for a moment (Y/N), Jacob just needs to get a map of London." Frederick explained, causing you to nod.

"I have a few on my desk, I'll get them." You answered, walking to your desk. It had books sprawled on top of it, blocking the map under them. You swiftly replaced the books on the floor, and spread out the map of London. It wasn't that large, though it had detailed locations in London. You grabbed a small map, mostly focused on Westminster, and placed it with the map of London.

"Thank you, Mrs. . ." Jacob began, trialing off.

"(Y/N), you don't need to call me Mrs." You explained, causing Jacob to peer over his shoulder at Frederick, who seemed to be shorter than Jacob. The Frye male must've not known you weren't the most optimistic person when it came to marriage. Frederick gave Jacob a glare, Frederick spoke.

"We must get back to working, Wade Lynton is said to be stealing more pounds as we speak." Frederick told Jacob, opening the door behind him. Jacob gestured Frederick to leave without him, causing the policeman to leave the bookshop.

"I'll see you soon, (Y/N). I do need more maps soon." Jacob teased, his welsh accent getting thicker. You smiled, waving to Frederick and Jacob as they left your shop. Once again, you were alone in your shop, with only your books to occupy the room with you. It wasn't easy being alone, and it wasn't easy for a bookshop keeper to be alone. It just proved the saying even further: A literate girl is a lonely girl. But you weren't going to be alone, you were going to have an arranged marriage. You sighed, watching as the day turned into night silently, and when all the shops were closed, and all the street lanterns scattered across the cobbles of London were lit up, you decided it was time to close the bookshop, and go to bed.

London was silent. . . and that wasn't something that happened very often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like my 2nd Jacob Frye/Reader story, I'm having fun writing this :D


	2. You Would Perish Without Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello once again reader! If you're wondering why Jacob isn't the main character of my story yet, it's because I still need to show you who Brandon is, then I'll add in everybody else. So, this chapter is explaining you and Brandon's relationship.

You organized novels from the boxes that remained in the corners of your bookshop until the sun began setting over the skyline of London, indicating it was evening. The boxes hadn't been attended to ever since your last conversation with Brandon, which happened about three days ago. After the novels were placed in the bookshelves, and the sky was a dark, tiger orange, you decided to close your bookshop, and walk to the City of London train station.

"Wife! Why aren't you in your bookshop? Slow day?" A British voice asked from behind you, causing you to choke back a curse. Brandon caught up with you, observing your composed figure. You tried to act calm with Brandon, attempting to avoid his gaze.

"Actually I received a good amount of people, and I earned a few pounds today." You retorted, watching the buildings' (that were likely owned by the middle class) windows close as their owners prepared for bed. The cobbles of London were deserted by its civilians when it was evening, aside from the gang known as the 'Blighters' that would walk around, seeking for people who were still roaming, though nobody was ignorant enough to roam around when the Blighters would.

"A few pounds? Even the lower class could earn more coins than you." Brandon insulted, but you didn't expect anything better from him. Brandon Abbot's mind was sexist, and you hated him for it. He treated you like his personal slave, though London didn't treat you any differently. You weren't allowed to keep your own money, you weren't allowed to have a vote and when you were going to marry Brandon, you weren't going to be allowed to live in your own house.

"Might I remind you, you don't work any harder than I do." You replied, only to be halted by Brandon. He held you shoulder, before whispering into your ear.

"Don't you remember why we're getting married (Y/N)? You don't earn a decent wage, and you give half of your earnings to me. If we get married, you keep your pounds. If we don't, you're going to have to give half of your pounds to me, how would that affect your life, hmm? You would perish without me." Brandon whispered, before releasing his grasp on your shoulder. You thought about what Brandon had said, and swiveled to face the Abbot man.

"I can tell Frederick and Aubrey about you, and I can get them to arrest you." You explained, attempting to escape Brandon, who chuckled at your response.

"I'm interested to hear who told you women could arrest men?" Brandon responded, causing you to think. It was true, you couldn't arrest Brandon, no matter what he did. He could strike you with a weapon, and even with the evidence he wouldn't be arrested. You hid a sob, and proceeded walking to the train station, hoping your train didn't come yet. You could escape Brandon for two hours, while you were on the train.

"I'm going to be late for my train Brandon-" You began, only to be stopped by Brandon.

"Actually, we're going to go somewhere else, I want to spend some time with my wife." Brandon interrupted you, causing you to sprint away from him. You knew something bad would happen if you were to stay, it was common knowledge. As you approached an occupied carriage, you noticed two Blighters amble towards you. You had forgotten, it was already turning into evening.

"To the City of London's train station!" You commanded, watching the man in the drivers' seat smile.

"Of course Ms." The man smiled, before lashing the horse in front of him. You sighed as you saw Aubrey, who was disguised as a Blighter's chauffeur. You watched the horse race pass the cobbles, getting a small break from its lashings every-so-often. Aubrey wasn't the most subtle policeman when compared to Frederick. He would create a noise when there was silence, he would drink on duty and he would start fights with Frederick over nothing.

"Thank you Aubrey, it's a couple minutes away." You explained to Aubrey, who nodded. Now that you were alone, you had a moment to think about what had happened. Brandon had brought up the sad truth of your situation. You needed to survive, and you needed to get married to a man to do so. Before you could think about anything else, a loud crack was heard. You quickly spun to identify where the crack came from, only to witness a bullet graze your cheek. It left a painful cut on your right cheek, causing you to scream in pain. You hid in the carriage, praying another bullet wouldn't get shot, but a few seconds later another bullet was heard, and Aubrey's carriage halted abruptly. You tried to find the source of what had caused the carriage to halt, only seeing the horse dead on the cobbles. Whoever was trying to shoot Aubrey missed, and his horse was shot instead.

"Quickly (Y/N)! Hide and be quiet." Aubrey stated, causing you to oblige. You prayed you wouldn't be spotted, trying to avoid the window that gave a view of the carriage's interior to anyone outside. You heard another carriage, and soon Aubrey began talking to someone.

"What're you doing here? You do know that after the evening London belongs to the Blighters?" A man asked, before Aubrey was pushed to the wall of the carriage.

"I do, I was just heading to the City of London's train station." Aubrey replied, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice.

"Sorry, but we're not buying it! We know you have Mr. Abbot's wife." Another voice explained, before stepping closer to the carriage door. You widened your eyes, watching as a figure slowly opened the carriage door.

"Here Johnnie! I found her." A woman smiled, before violently grabbing you and pushing you to her colleague. Johnnie smiled, before grabbing your slim arm.

"Mr. Abbot wants to meet you at your bookshop." Johnnie stated, before he began walking you to your bookshop. The sun was know below the skyline, causing the deserted streets of London to be more ominous. Your bookshop would be thirty minutes away, and your arm would become red from Johnnie's grip when you would be let free, but you didn't care about that. All you cared about was Brandon, the man that you were going to be escorted too, the man that had sent Blighters after you.

\---

"Here Mr. Abbot. She's all yours." Johnnie chuckled, before pushing you into your bookshop, where Brandon was seated. The Blighter closed the door behind you, causing your shop to turn darker. You observed Brandon, watching as he stepped closer to you.

"Oh wife. . . you look awful. You need to stop running everywhere." Brandon smiled, holding your hands. You wanted to step back, but you were to frightened to move. Somehow Brandon would use that to his advantage. Brandon was prejudice in the form of a human.

"You aren't allowed in my bookshop during afterhours." You stated, trying to get Brandon to leave your shop.

"I'll leave, I just wanted to see my wife before our big wedding. . ." Brandon smiled, before leaving the darkened bookshop. You sighed, before realizing you needed to tend to your bullet wound. You couldn't tell the police about him, what was the point? Arresting was out of the question, and no policeman would take your case. You watched as Brandon left, and immediately locked the door to your bookshop. You needed to go to bed, you were tired, and some rest would do you good. The sun was now replaced by the moon, which was the only light source among the cobbles of London, aside from the street lanterns. There was silence, and that was something you needed today.

You needed something that would stop Brandon, but you were a woman in London, with only a policeman and his colleague who believed women should be treated fairly to help you.


	3. The Markets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this update wasn't fast enough, I was really busy! My winter break is really packed, but I always try to find the time to update my stories. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter :)

You stared blankly out the window in your bedroom, observing lively London. It was about 8:00am, and you had plans that would occupy you for the entire day. You were going to the market and buy new Charles Dickens' novels, they were going to replace the damaged books you had ruined. The markets, it was the most chaotic place to be on a Thursday. It was in Westminster every Thursday. The markets had costermongers who sold different things, such as bones, pots and pans and watercress. Once you saw someone selling a birds' nest.

You got prepared for the markets, and left organized your bookshop. Even if you weren't going to be there, it was important to keep your shop organized. If anybody from the middle class saw a disorganized bookshop, they would spread the word. Gossip wasn't a fancied trait for a shop, who knew what the people were saying? You reluctantly closed your bookshop, praying nobody -including Brandon- was going to rob the shop. It had happened once, and you would never forget it. You were outside for an errand, and a few of the lower class had decided to rob your bookshop. You lost thirty books, and about three boxes. Business didn't recover faster than you anticipated, though your shop was visited regularly a few months afterwards.

"Off to the markets (Y/N)?" A welsh accented voice asked, causing you to swivel. You met the gaze of Jacob, Frederick's new colleague.

"Yes, I've already planned what I'll be getting." You answered, causing Jacob to nod slightly. It wasn't very often you would meet new people, you were busy most of the time. You needed to run your bookshop, and you needed to talk to Brandon about your arranged marriage (which you could do without). You rarely ever had the time to have a conversation with someone, let alone a man you had barely seen.

"Me too. If we're both going to the markets, would you care to walk with me?" Jacob suggested, causing you to smile.

"I'd love that, Mr. Frye." You replied, before walking with Jacob to Westminster. Having a conversation was never something you could achieve, you could say it wasn't a trait of yours. Being the introverted woman you were, the only conversations you could have were with Brandon or customers, and even then, it would only last a few minutes. You maneuvered your way through London, occasionally talking to Jacob.

"So, are you the marriage type?" Jacob asked, walking with you through an alleyway. It was dark, but you could see the point at which the alleyway would end.

"Not really, but society thinks every woman is." You explained, remembering Brandon. He though every woman wanted to get married, have a baby or two, and live the rest of their days with the husband's finance. Just thinking about Brandon made you curse under your breath.

"Society is just a community that was torn apart by views." Jacob replied, causing you to smile. Jacob held a good conversation, unlike Brandon. You and Brandon didn't have good conversations, most of them being about finance or women's rights. With Jacob, it was different. Jacob was logical, he could understand another person's opinion, he didn't just scoff at another opinion. Jacob had this sense to him, a sense that you could talk to him about anything and he would make a smart remark to it. You and Jacob had a few more conversations, until an awkward silence fell between you. For the majority of the walk, you and the younger Frye twin were silent.

\---

You and Jacob arrived at the markets after a couple of minutes filled with uninterrupted silence. The markets were packed with eager buyers, costermongers and objects of interest. The cobbles underneath the buyers were barely visible, and the grass the outlined the cobbles were being suffocated by buyers' shoes.

"Goodbye Mr. Frye--" You began, getting cut of by the younger Frye twin.

"Call me Jacob." Jacob corrected.

"Right. Goodbye Jacob, may our paths cross again." You smiled, before leaving Jacob to rummaged through the markets by himself. Now that you were alone, you felt uneasy. Not the type of uneasy you had when you were grabbed by Blighters, nor the one where you were almost shot by a bullet, but the type of uneasy that wasn't explainable. You snapped out of your thoughts, and proceeded to walk through the busy markets.

You walked pass markets that sold instruments, weapons and so on, but you had yet to find a market that sold novels. You passed a market that sold jewelry, and you immediately halted to view the jewelry. You avoided the temptation to buy anything, and proceeded your search. That was until you were approached by two children, about 5'5 and 5'7. You raised a thin eyebrow at the children, but disregarded them. Before you could continue walking, a child accidently bumped into you.

"Sorry Ms." The child apologized, before running off. The other child followed, causing you to stop your movements for a few moments. They were odd. You resumed your walking, trying to identify a market that sold novels. You were about to end your search, when you saw it. There was a market that had five novels on it's table, each a novel written by Charles Dickens. You smiled as you asked the man how much they cost.

"Twelve pounds each." The man answered, causing you to widen your eyes.

"Twelve? But those only cost ten--" You began, getting cut off by the man.

"I'm selling 'em for twelve." The man interrupted, crossing his arms over his torso. You grumbled under your breath, before retrieving your purse, only problem was. . . your purse was gone. The children, they must have stole it while you were looking for a market that sold books. The man waited, getting impatient as you explained your situation. Before you could ask him to keep the books until you had the money to buy them, a man approached the table.

"May I have these books?" The man asked, causing you to worry. You wouldn't be able to buy the books, you were going to leave the markets empty-handed. Feeling discouraged, you walked out of the chaos, going back to your bookshop. You would need to wait another week until another market would open, meaning you weren't going to be able to sell Charles Dickens books at your shop for a week. Before you could leave to get to your bookshop, you were chased after by a man who seemed familiar. The man that bought the books.

"Listen, I don't want to hear you gloating." You stated, watching as the man struggled to breath.

"Gloat? No, my boss wanted to give these to you. He told me to buy them for you." The man struggled to say, before handing you the novels. You looked at the books, then at the man, then at the books once more.

"Who's your boss?" You asked, wanting to thank this man's boss face-to-face.

"Jacob Frye--" He began, getting interrupted by you.

"Tell Jacob I said thanks." You commanded the man, who nodded, before regaining his breath. You smiled at the books, remembering your conversations with Jacob. This 'Jacob Frye' was starting to get onto your good side. You walked with the books to your bookshop, where you placed the books on your counter, eager to organize them. An act of kindness from a man you barely knew, sometimes London surprised you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh the markets, I needed to base this off of Black Friday. The amounts of people in a store on Black Friday is unbelievable, I needed to write about it as if it was in 1868.


	4. Dancing With Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter might have came out slower than my other updates, school is awful ;-; Luckily, I can write over the weekends, if my teachers/Blighters don't give me homework.

Only four days after you visited the markets with Jacob, Brandon had come up to you. He had given you an invitation to a ball in Westminster, and even hired a carriage to take you to the ball. That was why you were in a carriage, in a light blue dress, with a darker shaded blue lacing. You stared at the scenery from the carriage's window, observing the gentry dancing to a song that was expertly played on the piano. The music echoed through the location, abruptly stopping as it reached the carriage you were seated in. You peered at Brandon, who was opening the carriage door for you. He was dressed in a white suit, with a bright, scarlet rose held in his suit's pocket.

"Let's dance, I haven't danced in such a long time." Brandon stated, stretching his arm out to assist you out of the carriage. You almost scoffed at Brandon, he must've danced every time he won an argument, which only happened when you would hold back a comment for him. You reached for his gloved hand, held it, and made your way out of the carriage. You scanned the area for a moment, attempting to find someone alone, so you could dance with them, instead of Brandon.

The ball was placed outside, though some people went indoors into the building, trying to escape the large group of dancers. The outsides were the only part of the location that was visible. The dance was placed in the front of the building, next to the gardens, which seemed attended to. There were lights that scattered the perimeter of the ball, and cords that connected the lights, each cord hidden by the tulips and sunflowers that covered them. There was a gazebo in the gardens, which was unoccupied, and away from the noise of the ball. A pianist played near the gardens, his back turned to the bushes and its blossoms. The building was laced with vines that began growing at the roof of the structure, which appeared to be making its way to the ground.

"You can dance with another woman, I'm not in the mood to dance." You explained, expecting Brandon to let you go. Then again, he wasn't the man who liked a refusal. His grip tightened, before he led you to the dancing area of the location.

"I am. So, let's dance." Brandon whispered, before waltzing with you. You watched as the gentry crowded closer to each other, causing your escape routes to close. You heard the song, thankful it was near a close. The gentry would spread apart, and you could sprint to the gardens, where nobody would think to look for a woman. Brandon moved his hands to your hips, causing you to grab them.

"Let's keep your hands away from my hips." You suggested, proceeding to dance with Brandon.

"Oh, my wife. A man can touch his woman, and it would be legal." Brandon explained, causing you to loosen your grip from him.

"That doesn't matter, it still isn't right." You stated, only getting a 'tsk, tsk' from Brandon.

"It doesn't matter if it's wrong or right, the man will always win." Brandon reminded you, before moving his hands to your hips once more. He was right, the man would always win in a fight, even if he was wrong. Even if he deserved to be punished. You knew you couldn't stay much longer with Brandon, something would happen, something that would make you regret your decision to keep dancing with him. You gulped, already feeling his hand travel down. You frowned, before sprinting into the crowd, and away from Brandon -that sexist pig. You remembered, the gardens! Unoccupied, nobody would notice a woman running through it. You made your way through the crowd of dancing gentry, not being the most subtle person. You ignored the insults thrown at you, and made your way to the gardens. You ran into the gazebo, not noticing the figure in the darkness of the small structure. You collided with the figure, hearing a faint grunt.

"I'm sorry, I was rushing." You apologized, peering over your shoulder, checking for Brandon.

"That's quite alright." A welsh accent explained, causing you to raise a thin eyebrow. Was it?

"Jacob?" You asked, causing the figure's head to perk up.

"You do remember me (Y/N), it's nice to see you again." Jacob exclaimed, politely kissing your hand. You smiled, watching the younger Frye twin emerge from the shadows. It was nice to see him, especially in your situation. Jacob was wearing a light, porpoise grey suit, with an obsidian black bowtie.

"Jacob, it's nice to see you as well." You replied, catching your breath. He was staring at the gardens that surrounded the gazebo, watching the flowers silently move in the wind. The faint music in the distance seemed to be completely silent by now, all you heard was silence. You walked beside Jacob, observing the flowers with him. You peered over at Jacob, whose hazel eyes were fixated on the greenery in front of him. It was peaceful, to be with Jacob Frye. You knew of him. rumors got around. He was the leader of the Rooks, and a known fighter to the Blighters. Any rumors you heard ceased to exist, all you could focus on was Jacob.

"Give me an honest answer." Jacob stated, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

"Alright." You replied, causing Jacob to face you.

"Do you like Brandon?" Jacob asked, awaiting your response.

"Do I like Brandon?" You asked, wanting Jacob to explain his question. It was clear 'Do you like Brandon Abbot?' but at the same time, it wasn't. You never heard that question before, it was a question most men never asked a woman. No man would ask a woman if they liked their husband.

"Do you like him, you're having an arranged marriage with him. Do you want to have an arranged marriage?" He clarified, causing you to think.

"No, but I don't have a choice. It is sad, but it is the 18th century." You answered, causing Jacob to nod. There was another silence, before you both heard footsteps. You both turned around to meet Brandon, who crossed his arms over his torso.

"Where were you?" Brandon asked, eyeing Jacob.

"With my friend, Jacob Frye." You answered, causing Brandon to scoff.

"Alright, let's go. We're going to dance again." Brandon replied. Before you could answer, Jacob took the opportunity to talk.

"I think (Y/N) wants to stay here for now." Jacob stated.

"It doesn't matter, she's my wife--" Brandon began, only to be cut off.

"I'm sorry, but she's a lady. If I'm correct, she'll be your wife in three months. She isn't married to you yet, and the laws of London play into motion when you get married. Not when you're close to marriage." Jacob responded for you, causing Brandon to mutter under his breath.

"I'll have you know ruffian, I'm going to take my wife--" Brandon began, getting cut off once more. Jacob had punched Brandon's nose. Brandon held his nose, staring at Jacob. He clenched his hands into fists, ready to punch back.

"I can call over Constable Abberline, if you'd like." Jacob suggested. Brandon still held his nose, trying to find a response. When he had none, he decided to storm off, grumbling as he vanished into the crowd of the dancing gentry. You widened your eyes at the act, watching as Jacob turned to face you.

"Are you okay?" Jacob asked, causing you to nod.

"Yes, I am Jacob." You smiled, not at your happiness, but at Jacob. He fought for you, he fought for a woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be on a three week long hiatus, because of school. I'll be writing a new chapter on the weekend, but I won't publish the chapter, because it might not be done.


	5. We Meet Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where do I start? I'm so sorry! :( I'm so sorry that this update came out three weeks after the last one! I feel awful, and I hope you can forgive me for this update coming out slower than usual :(

You sat at your bookshop's counter, reading a new Charles Dickens novel. The window in front of you gave you a view of the outside in your peripheral vision. Civilians of the City of London walked pass your bookshop, occasionally looking through the window. None of the civilians had entered your small shop, neither did they show interest to. People never bothered to enter your bookshop, unless it had been a long day and they wanted to relax. You continued reading Hard Times, only to be interrupted by a creak from the entrance to your bookshop.

"Excuse me?" A welsh accent asked, causing you to perk your head up, bringing your attention to Jacob Frye.

"Hello Jacob, what brings you here?" You asked, setting your book aside. You observed Jacob, watching him go through the organized novels, trying to find one he was interested to read. You smiled as Jacob reached out for Great Expectations.

"I wanted to get away from the noises of London for a bit." Jacob answered, before sitting on a nearby chair. His face was covered by his cowl, which blocked his hazel eyes. You guessed he was too preoccupied with his book to remember to lower it.

"Interesting, I thought a gang leader liked the noises outside." You replied, causing the younger Frye twin to chuckle.

"Even the slums of the Devil's Acre don't like the noises of London." Jacob explained, before he set his cane aside. He sat near a bookshelf, which looked as though it could get unbalanced with a simple shove in the wrong direction. You were planning to fix the shelf, though you needed to go to the markets again, and buy the items needed to fix it.

"Does your wife like books as much as you?" You asked, before dragging a loose hair behind your ear.

"I don't have a wife." Jacob clarified, causing you nod.

"How rude of me, sorry Jacob." You apologized, trying to avoid eye contact from the younger Frye twin.

"It's fine (Y/N), and I've always appreciated books. Of course, a gang leader reading wouldn't be good for his reputation. I've never read in front of the Rooks." Jacob explained, noticing you gaining eye contact with him once more.

"Well, why do you read in front of me then?" You asked, reaching for your novel, just in case Jacob didn't want to talk to you anymore. You were always known to speak your mind, and that wasn't a very appreciated thing for women.

"You're not someone who would laugh at another person for reading a good novel or two." Jacob answered, subtly moving his head to the window of your bookshop. You faced your window, noticing a small group of Blighters blending in with the civilians that passed your bookshop. How long were they there? They could've watched you for hours, and you wouldn't have noticed.

"Interesting, between you and I, Brandon never cared for books. It's a shame really." You gossiped, making sure no Blighters were watching you from the outside. The younger Frye twin chuckled, before his fun was interrupted by Brandon.

"Hello Brandon, is your nose healing?" You asked, his crooked nose reminding you of last night. You couldn't help but take a quick glance at Jacob, before Brandon scoffed.

"Sure. Anyways, are you conversing with that insane man that punched me yesterday?" Brandon asked, clenching his hands into fists. Jacob raised a busy eyebrow at Brandon, almost amused that he was willing to fight him.

"His name is Jacob Frye, and yes. He can hold a conversation with me for a long time. Jacob--" You began, getting cut off.

"Yes, I know his bloody name. I'm going to marry a woman that talks with lunatics that punched me." Brandon stated. Did he just call Jacob a lunatic? If anything, Jacob punched a man that could rape you, and you would need to stay quiet unless he would send Blighters after you.

"If I may intrude, her name is (Y/N)." Jacob explained, causing Brandon to roll his royal blue eyes at him.

"Listen, Mr. Frye. (Y/N) is my wife, I can call her whatever I please." Brandon retorted, causing the younger Frye twin to whisper something under his breath. He looked up at Brandon, before grabbing his cane.

"(Y/N) is not a dog, you can't rename her." Jacob stated though grit teeth, before Brandon smirked.

"I'm sorry Jacob, but the law isn't in her favor. The only officer that would actually listen to my wife-to-be's story would be Frederick. Even then, he doesn't have the authority to get (Y/N)'s case to a judge." Brandon reminded Jacob, who twisted his cane's top. There was a small, barely audible click, before Jacob pulled his cane's top. A small, sharp knife was visible, before Jacob quickly set it beside Brandon's throat.

"I don't care about the bloody law--" Jacob began, before Brandon yelled.

"Get them! Get them both!" Brandon commanded, before three brutes pushed aside civilians. You noticed more Blighters now, causing you to panic. Jacob hesitated, before he grabbed your hand forcefully, and ran out of your bookshop, and into the crowded streets of London.

"I'm sorry I needed to involve you into this." Jacob apologized, scanning the City of London for any nearby Blighters.

"Brandon involved me into this before you did. He married me and must've thought I wouldn't find out about his gang--" You began, causing Jacob to mumble something.

"This isn't about gangs, (Y/N)." Jacob clarified, causing you to raise a thin eyebrow.

"Then what is it about?" You asked, before Jacob began chasing something. A carriage. He briefly let go of your hand, and leaped onto the carriage. He threw out the man that previously occupied the carriage, and halted the two horses that complied.

"I'm sorry that you'll need to find out this way!" Jacob apologized once more, before the sound of a rushing train filled the air. You tried to make sense of the situation, before you spotted something in your peripheral vision. Another carriage, but this one was occupied with two Blighters. The younger Frye twin snatched something from inside his oil black coat, and suddenly one of the horses from the Blighter's carriage neighed in pain, before it collapsed. Jacob shot the horse.

"Where are we going?!" You yelled over the multiple sounds in the air. Jacob -whose cowl was thrown back by the harsh wind- pointed to the railway, where the train was passing overtop. Before you could ask him if he was actually pointing to the railway, the younger Frye twin held you close, before a loud snap clashed with the multiple noises. You suddenly felt yourself being forcefully lifted into the air.

"Just begin running!" Jacob stated, before you felt something under you. The ground, but it was shaking. Why was it shaking? You looked up, attempting to find what was causing the ground to shake, noticing a train, rushing at you. You were on a railway, and you were about to die. You swiveled to face Jacob, who was running towards the rushing train.

Before the train could collide with him, Jacob ran beside the hunk of metal, before knocking onto the metal of the vehicle. A curtain opened, before an arm reached out. Jacob forcefully grabbed the arm, before jumping into the flowing curtains. You quickly began running, imitating Jacob's steps. You knocked on the metal, which caused your hands to hurt. A few seconds passed, before a curtain opened, and an arm reached out. You held your breath, before snatching the arm. You were forcefully pulled into the rushing train, knocking your head on the wooden floor of the vehicle.

You began to fall unconscious, noticing two hooded figures, before you descended into a slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter was worth it, because my hiatus wasn't :( I needed to study for exams, and on Monday I have two exams I need to study for ;-; I'll update more frequently, I promise.


	6. You Must Relocate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess whose going back on schedule? That's right, this update came on time-- or when I was expecting to finish it. Due to exams getting more common, I was about to delete this story :'( But then I realized, this is really fun to write, and I've found out that it's a stress reliever (Aside form videogames and books of course)

You woke up on a light, fern green settee. There was a window beside you, which displayed rushing rain colliding with the rooftops of buildings beside the railway. You raised an eyebrow, watching the scenery outside speed pass you. You were almost accustomed to the common water droplets that slide down the window of the train. You slowly stood up, silently cursing your headache. Before you had time to search the train, the two hooded figures from last night appeared in the doorway of the compartment.

"She's awake." The thinner figure stated, tilting its head to the hooded figure beside it. The thinner figure had a female's voice, it was almost reassuring. She had an onyx black trench coat, with a scarlet red cape stitched to the ends of it. Her chiffon white undershirt was barely noticeable, though its collar stuck out neatly. Her penny brown boots were just below her knees.

"She must be confused." Jacob's welsh accent replied. Jacob's cowl had hidden his hazel eyes, only his stubble and his thin lips were visible. Unlike the female's, his basil green undershirt was visible. The trench coat on top of the displayed shirt was much dirtier than the female's trench coat, implying Jacob used his more than the female.

"Why would you take a knife out on a Blighter? Not to mention a gang leader?" The female asked, still remaining in her sophisticated posture. Even you weren't that civil when you would argue. 

"Brandon was going to abuse (Y/N) if I hadn't Evie, you of all people should back up my decision." Jacob explained, giving away the woman's name. Evie --who was now crossing her arms over her torso-- hesitated for a moment. Was Evie a suffragette?

"I would Jacob, but not now. You brought an innocent woman here, and for what? Your own personal feelings?" Evie reminded Jacob, causing him to mumbled something under his breathe.

"We will talk about Father's methods later. For now, we need to explain what is going on. (Y/N) must have plenty of questions." Jacob retorted, causing Evie to sigh. She lowered her cowl, revealing her face. She had brunette strands, with a loose braid. She had reassuring, light green eyes, and freckles upon her cheeks. Her thin eyebrows were narrowed, indicating she was frustrated with her brother.

"Hello (Y/N), as my brother informed me, you are in a relationship with a Blighter. Is that true?" Evie asked, causing you to slightly nod. Evie turned her head to her brother, who was walking to a board. It had different photographs of people, the first three of which were crossed out with a red line. Jacob was examining one of the pictures, a woman, who looked like she was in her late forties.

"You're a key piece to the hunt for Blighters." Jacob explained, his eyes fixated on the woman.

"I don't understand." You stated, hoping one of the siblings would clarify.

"You're going to have an arranged marriage with a Blighter, one that controls a district of London. The Strand, to be exact. If we want to take back London from Templar control, we need to control London. Which means, we must assassinate the gang leaders of different districts." Evie clarified, gesturing you to a wooden table. A map of London was open on top of the table.

"How many districts have you taken control of?" You asked, observing the map.

"We're currently controlling two, Westminster and Whitechapel." Jacob answered, setting himself on the fern green settee.

"Now (Y/N), we must talk about the events that took place." Evie stated, causing you to raise an eyebrow at her.

"You saw firsthand how many Blighters were occupying just a small percentage of the district. They now know where your bookshop, and your home is. Brandon could kill you if you went back to your bookshop, therefore. . ." Jacob trailed off, his hazel eyes trying to find something else to occupy. The train began to slow down, which was the same for the rain. The soft pitter-patter had died down, and soon, it was gone. All that remained was silence, then Evie's voice filled the room.

"You're being relocated to the City of London." Evie interrupted the silence, causing you to widen your eyes. You had lived in Westminster since you were small, about five or six. You had built a life there, you had a bookshop there, you had a home there.

"We've already supplied you with a small shop with three boxes of books. That should take care of your occupation problem." The younger Frye twin explained, before a loud screech filled the air. It was the train, it was halting at a train station. You glanced outside the window, noticing the busy streets. Were you in the City of London?

"My brother will assist you to your shop." Evie explained, before taking her leave. You did the same, as you stepped outside the train, and on the cobbles of the City of London, where you would start your new life.

***

Jacob had helped arrange the books in the three books onto the empty shelves, and even decided to organize some objects for your new home. Though your bed was only a blanket, it was a start. You covered the windows --that lacked curtains-- with thin sheets. Though it wasn't much, you still thanked Jacob as he left your small bookshop. The younger Frye twin had asked if you needed anything, and you merely shook your head and denied his offer. Of course, you were lying. You wanted to ask every question that had peered into your mind. You wanted to ask the younger Frye twin what would happen if Brandon found you. You knew he would find you, he always did.

You brought back the thin sheets from your bedroom window, and looked outside. It was starting to become nightfall, and the stars were beginning to become visible. All of the events today had made you realize, you were so small. You were one person, going up against a gang leader. You couldn't sleep, not with these thoughts rushing through your mind. You leaned on your bedrooms brick wall, still staring emotionlessly out the window. Your eyes soon fixated on a tavern 'The Seven Bells'

You knew what you were going to do tomorrow. You were going to head to the tavern, and make new associations, one of which would be Clara O'Dea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter, because you're going to be hearing plenty of character names on the next! :D


	7. The Eyes & Ears of London

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess whose back to posting on schedule? Yes, I am making a schedule now! :') Every week and 3 days or two weeks, I will make a new chapter. :D That means my updates will come out sooner, and my chapters will be more organized :) I hope you enjoy my second organized chapter! :D

Today wasn't like the others. Today, you didn't sit down at the counter of your bookshop, nor did you organize books for your small shop. You weren't going to be at your bookshop at all today, you were going to The Seven Bells. The exterior of the pub was very welcoming. A few children --with faces covered in soot-- were talking about something. You were taught that a proper woman never interferes with something that doesn't involve her, but Brandon wasn't here to scold you. You stood near a lit streetlamp a few meters away from the children, and eavesdropped on their conversation.

"Did you hear Tommy?" A girl asked, giving her friend a dimpled smile.

"'Bout what?" A boy asked, his Irish accent being noticed.

"'Bout Clara. She decided to work with that Welsh guy! What was his name again?" Another girl answered, shocked that the boy didn't know who they were talking about. The girl sounded as if the boy had missed the funeral for the Queen.

"Jacob Frye! I didn't know O'Dea worked with such violent men." The second boy replied, his Indian accent thicker than the other children's accents.

"Really? Clara sounds like the type of girl that would do that. She does own a pub." The small girl stated, causing her friend to roll his eyes.

"If she didn't have to, she wouldn't." The Irish boy protested, before you had decided to leave the conversation. The group of children would either continue their argument about nonsense, or they would've spotted you. Either way, you didn't want to see the outcome of those two situations. You walked into the structure, which was oddly clean for a pub. There walls were lined with windows, each with orange stained glass. There were pine green curtains that were moved aside, so the light outside could peer in easily.

Beside the windows were settees that lined the tawny brown oak walls of the pub. They were a light, fern green color. A few men and woman were seated there, each of them bore a fancy demeanor, along with an elegant dress or suit. Along another wall, there was a piano, that had a man playing it. He seemed like an expert. The notes filled the air, along with the conversations of various costumers of the tavern.

The middle of the bar had a few tables, each occupied with a group of men and women that were obviously drunk. They were slurring, and their hands hesitated when they reached for objects. It was a trait that every woman knew too well. Every women had gotten drunk once or twice in their life. You had gotten drunk once, and it was after three glasses of India Pale Ale. You were drunk for the same reason most women got drunk, you wanted to escape the life surrounding you. Of course the bitter liquid tasted awful, but you were desperate.

Aside from the lovely interior of the tavern, you had focused on the tavern's boss. In London, you needed to make many connections throughout your district. It was a survival tactic. You figured the boss of the welcoming tavern would be near the counter, so you maneuvered your way pass the costumers and civilians of the City of London. You reached the counter, where many people were goofing around. You had an opportunity to overhear some conversations.

"I've got me some coins, I 'ave!" A drunk man exclaimed, causing his friend to roll his eyes.

"What'll you do with 'em 'ere coins?" The other man asked, his dark brown eyes focusing on his colleague.

"I'm goin' ta buy me a better wife!" The man hollered, smacking his palm on the counter.

"But I thought you loved your wife, you did!"

"Loved her? How can I love someone that doesn't know how to cook?"

"Good point John!" The drunk man's friend exclaimed. He looked older when he was laughing. You didn't want to listen to the conversation anymore, so you proceeded to focus on the counter. It had a few mugs of ale placed on it, a sticky circle of ale already forming under it. A woman was sleeping near a mug, her friend ordering another glass of ale. She had looked like she was in her mid-thirties. Why wasn't she responsible?

"Ma'am, are you okay?" A short girl asked, setting a mug of Lager on the counter in front of her.

"Oh, I'm fine. Do you know where the boss of this tavern is, if it isn't too much trouble?" You asked, causing the short girl to laugh. It wasn't a forced laugh, nor did she want to make it sound proper. It was a genuine laugh. She snorted a few times, before she calmed down.

"I am the boss. Clara O'Dea, at your service." The cockney girl smiled, stretching her hand out. You politely grabbed her hand, shook her hand, before analyzing her. She wore a dark pine green dress, that ended near her ankles. Her brunette hair was tied in two, long braids. She had dark umber brown eyes, over freckles that spread across her cheeks. She had a nice smile, that consisted of pearly white teeth.

"You own this tavern?" You asked, surprised the short girl was more responsible than some of the drunk customers that surrounded her.

"Actually, my father and mother does. I just work here." Clara clarified, ignoring the slurs that the entire pub could hear.

"If you don't mind me asking, are they working here-- right now?" You asked, causing Clara to avoid your gaze.

"T-They're not. . . sick is all." Clara explained, causing you to avoid her gaze.

"Don't worry, they'll get better." You reassured Clara, who smiled. Clara was well-collected for her age, she was possibly twelve or thirteen. Her parents were sick, and she had to work in a pub, where slurs were heard everyday. If Clara didn't show perseverance, you didn't know who did. The cockney girl soon redirected her attention to your gaze.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." Clara apologized, causing you to smile.

"I'm (Y/N), I just relocated here." You explained, observing Clara's eyes widen. She peered over her shoulder, slightly nodding, before she leaned in closer to you.

"You're Mr. Frye's friend?" She asked, awaiting clarification.

"Yes, why?" You answered, regretting it. You had only met Clara, what if she was working with Brandon? What if she was a Blighter urchin?

"I'm working with him, I'm like an urchin. Also, keep your voice down. Some Blighters are here. Listen, Mr. Frye instructed me to help you start your life here." Clara explained, looking through the spaces in the crowds.

"How can I trust you?" You asked, peering through the crowd as well. 

"I know you're here because of Brandon Abbot, Mr. Frye already informed me." Clara whispered, causing you to nod. Only Jacob, Evie and Brandon knew about your arranged marriage. That meant someone told Clara, and it couldn't have been Brandon. He would only tell the Blighters that worked in Westminster.

"Alright, I believe you. But, how can you help me?" You whispered, causing Clara to think.

"We need to talk somewhere else. . ." Clara trailed off, before her umber brown eyes fixated on the door to the back of the tavern. She mouthed 'the back' to you, and you nodded. Clara headed to the kitchen, pretending to get an order for a drunk customer. She snuck out of the pub, and opened the backdoor. You walked after her, walking to the back of the tavern.

There were five other children, each with faces covered in soot, like the four children that were talking in front of The Seven Bells. The children were talking, each of them not noticing the short girl. Clara stepped closer, and the five children widened their eyes, before turning to face the short girl.

"Clara, is this the girl?" A tall boy asked, causing Clara to nod. The boy smiled, walking over to you.

"'Ello miss! Sorry if we aren't that clean, we've been working for a few hours." The boy apologized, causing you to avoid eye contact with him. The boy raised an eyebrow at Clara, who merely shrugged.

"She's new here, she doesn't want to seem rude." Clara guessed, causing the boy to nod. He snatched his stitched cap, and clutched it near his stomach. He wanted you to trust him, so you obliged. You turned back to him, smiling.

"I'm Waylon Lockett, 'ow do you do?" Waylon asked, trying to sound nice.

"I'm fine, how are you?" You asked, causing Waylon to grin.

"I'm over the moon! I get to meet Boss' colleague!" Waylon answered, causing you to giggle. For once, nobody scolded or shunned you for giggling in front of a male. The children merely smiled, before Clara cleared her throat.

"These are my friends-- my eyes and ears. This is Amber, that's Iris. He's Sean and that's his brother Penny." Clara introduced everyone, each of the children bowing or curtsying. You curtsied back, before you diverted your attention to Clara.

"Clara, what're these. . ." You trailed off, trying to find the right words to describe the children.

"You can just say sooties, (Y/N)." Clara giggled, causing you to nod slightly.

"What're these sooties going to do?" You asked, causing Clara to look at her friends.

"We're going to keep track of everything. Make sure Brandon doesn't find you, get more information to Mr. Frye on Brandon-- all for your safety." Clara explained, giving you a another genuine smile.

"Thank you, thank you all. What do I owe you?" You asked the children, causing Waylon to whisper to a sootie. It was either Sean or Penny, you couldn't remember. The two nodded at each other, before Waylon spoke up.

"We want a few books, every other week or so." Waylon explained, embarrassed. You smiled at the child, you knew why he was embarrassed. He was working twelve hours in a factory, and he asked for a novel. When would he have time to read it? You kneeled down to reach his height, gaining more of his trust.

"I'll get you all a few novels for tomorrow." You explained, causing Waylon to smile. The children murmured among themselves excitedly, causing you to smile. You walked along the cobblestone streets once more, trying to spot more of Clara's urchins as you walked back to your bookshop.

When you got to your home, you noticed a small note with a package beside it. You picked up the note, and all it said was: You might need these in the future, (Y/N).

You opened the package, and found a couple of books. On them was a satchel of coins, with at least fifty coins. You smiled, knowing who sent the package to you:

Jacob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're wondering why I named a boy 'Penny' I'm not referring to the girl's name, I'm referring to the actual coin. I like symbolism in stories, so I named a sootie (a lower-class worker that works with coal) Penny :)


	8. A Meal With the Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter :') I have a LOT of plans ready for the future, some of which might be about Brandon, others about Jacob. All I know is that I'm on schedule! :D The only thing I need to bring up is that the reasons I take so long to make a chapter is for a number of reasons; I need to make a plan for the newest chapter. I need to make the story's timeline correct on every chapter. I need to write the chapter. I need to edit the chapter.

It was about midnight in London, and the moon was shining over the silent city. The streetlamps were peering over the thick fog that emerged, illuminating the civilians that passed. Most of the civilians were part of the middle class, you could tell due to their outfits. Horse-drawn carriages trotted pass your bookshop. Each of the carriages had gas lamps attached to them, illuminating the cobblestone paths for the trotting creatures.

You gazed out your window, clutching another novel to your chest. Your home wasn't the most comfortable place to be yet, you still had to make adjustments. Your bed was pushed against a wall, giving you more space to re-arrange your furniture. A desk occupied another wall. It was made of oak, and there were patterns and pictures carved into the wood. One picture was a raven, with its wings spread open, ready for flight. It was the most detailed picture, therefore you would look at it daily.

A few books were sprawled messily on the desktop, most of them books Jacob had given you. He had claimed that he would never need them, and his sister claimed he would never read them. The two siblings would argue about nonsense, Jacob usually being the problem. The last argument they had was about Jacob. Apparently, he had entered a race Robert Topping was hosting. It was in Jacob's nature to join races, it was also in his nature to get on Evie's nerves.

"(Y/N)? It's me, Jacob Frye." A welsh accent explained, knocking on your door. You quickly examined your room, noticing it was in a mess. You hadn't organized it in three days, you didn't have the time.

"Oh, Jacob. Maybe you should come back tomorrow, my residence is awfully messy." You suggested, causing Jacob the chuckle.

"That's quite alright, I came here because I guessed you were hungry." Jacob replied, causing you to smile a bit. You opened the door, allowing Jacob to walk inside. He politely kissed your cheek, before examining the room he was in. You were embarrassed, having a messy room wasn't ladylike. The younger Frye twin smiled, before setting a small package on your desk.

"I've gotten accustomed to your visits." You stated, closing the door behind you. Jacob could only laugh slightly at your joke, causing you to have a breath of relief. Jacob analyzed the map that was sprawled out on your desk, before he opened the package he had brought.

"I thought I'd give you a small treat, courtesy of me." Jacob explained, opening his package. There were different vegetables; The scent of them filled the air. You couldn't help but sniff the air. The younger Frye twin snatched a knife from your desk. You remembered why you had the knife. Evie and her colleague Henry Green had given it to you, she reminded you that the City of London had many males that weren't too fond of suffragettes. Even though you didn't like it, you needed to have the steel blade by your side at all times when you were wandering the City of London.

"Thank you Jacob. I can start a fire if you need." You thanked Jacob, who nodded in acknowledgment. He began slicing the vegetables one by one, while you began heating your fireplace.

"Any signs of that bigot Brandon yet?" Jacob asked you, slicing an onion. You placed your palm a few centimeters away from your fire, testing its heat.

"Not yet, but. . . I think we should talk about his assassination plan." You hesitated, causing Jacob to peer over his shoulder at you. His hazel eyes fixated on your face, causing you to continue focusing on your fire.

"I never knew you had Evie's mindset." Jacob joked, before grabbing a carrot, and slicing it with the same expert skill he used to cut the other vegetables. You smiled, feeling your hand.

"I'm taking this from an assassin and gang leader?" You retorted, causing Jacob to chuckle.

"I suppose you're right-- bullocks!" Jacob exclaimed in pain. You jumped a bit at the extravagant scream, before sprinting over to Jacob. His left hand had a cut, and blood profusely poured out of the cut. He must've accidently cut his hand while he was chopping vegetables.

"I'll get some bandages for you!" You stated, opening a drawer from your desk. A few medical supplies were stashed in the drawer, most of the medical supplies being given to you by Henry. You rummaged through the supplies, managing to find bandages. You quickly took them out of the drawer, and observed Jacob's wound. You began to cover it, causing Jacob to smile.

"Thank you (Y/N), I must not have seen what I were my knife was going. . ." Jacob apologized, causing you to look up form his wound.

"It's fine Jacob." You smiled, causing Jacob to smirk.

"Being a gang leader, as you previously mentioned, this is like a bug bite to me." Jacob teased you, brightening the mood of the room, almost as much as that fire that illuminated you both.

"I'll put the vegetables over the fire, you try to recover from your. . . bug bite." You joked, causing Jacob to roll his hazel eyes at the joke. No matter what he would do, you saw his visible smile. His teeth were bone white, something you've never noticed about Jacob before. The younger Frye twin leaned on your desk, wiping the crimson blood on his hand onto his oil black trench coat.

You set the broth over the fire, filling the air with the aroma. You grabbed two bowls, and poured a fairly good amount of soup into them. You set yourself beside Jacob, giving him a bowl of soup. He thanked you, and you both proceeded to sip your soups.

"You're an excellent cook." Jacob complimented you, sipping his soup once more.

"Thank you Jacob." You thanked him, stirring the broth.

"Your arranged marriage, why did you want to marry Brandon?" Jacob asked, genuinely interested.

"I didn't want to marry Brandon," You answered, "even though I'm in the middle class, my parents wanted me to have a pleasant life. London believes that being born a girl is a curse. I would agree, along with the other suffragettes."

There was another silence, but this time, it wasn't awkward. It was as if there was an invisible wall between you and Jacob. The small silence allowed you to observe Jacob. His stubble had grown quite a bit, and it was untamed. His chocolate brown hair was groomed, loose strands falling in front of his light, hazel eyes. His neck and collarbone were exposed, and he wore a shilling on an obsidian black string. It must have been a keepsake from London.

"Do you have any hobbies?" Jacob asked. The invisible wall suddenly disappeared, allowing you to feel as though you could talk-- and Jacob would listen.

"I read, but you probably know that by now." You replied, causing Jacob to nod, chuckling. You never noticed how thin his lips were. They turned into a thin line, before he proceeded to speak.

"I enjoy fencing, believe it or not." Jacob chuckled, causing you to suppress a laugh.

"Fencing? I would've thought, you are a skilled swordsman." You explained, observing the younger Frye twin's cane, that was leaning against a wall.

"I also like talking, which Evie and Greenie have pointed out a bunch of times." Jacob joked, finishing his soup. You smiled, thinking Jacob didn't like his welsh accent as much as you did. It was oddly calming, rough but trusting.

"Jacob, if you'd like, you can stay here-- it is raining outside." You explained, pointing between the two sheets on your window. Rain droplets were sliding down the glass of your window, each of them faster than the last.

"Oh. . . I hadn't planned on rain." He nonchalantly stated, causing you to shrug.

"So, will you take me up on my offer?" You asked, causing Jacob to grin. He nodded, resting his right arm on a nearby box.

"I can get you a blanket--" You began, getting cut off by Jacob.

"You don't need to put yourself to the trouble, I can sleep without one." Jacob interrupted you, setting aside his top hat nearby. He brought up his cowl, slowly drifting off. You made sure the orange flames of the fire died down, before you leaned on a separate wall, covering your body in a blanket. Jacob --who was now asleep-- began softly snoring, causing you to laugh quietly to yourself. You took the opportunity to rest, slowly drifting off yourself.

Jacob, who knew you were well into your slumber, stopped faintly snoring. He quietly got up, before proceeding to get his cane and top hat. He quietly stepped beside you, and leaned close to you.

"I can handle the rain, and Evie will wonder why it took so long to check on you. But thanks for your offer, Love." Jacob whispered, before proceeding to leave.

As he left, all he could think about was how he was going to explain the gash on his hand to Evie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter :) One thing I've always thought is that Jacob probably subtly flirts with people, but when he's alone with his thoughts, he becomes a sappy chap (British slang is better than regular slang X'D)


	9. Meeting Him Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter, I always work hard on these types of chapters. I just want to remind anybody reading this; I spend time out of my own weeks to make these chapters. I hope you like my hard work, a majority of the users on Archive of Our Own try hard to make good updates, that includes me :')

You were going to meet Jacob at the park, he wanted to speak with you about something. You didn't get any further details about what he wanted to talk about; all you knew was that you were walking through the City of London, lost. You hadn't got the slightest clue where the park was, but you knew that your had your knife was strapped on your corset. It wasn't something you were comfortable with, but multiple civilians and allies told you to have it strapped onto you at all times. You never knew who might be following you.

The civilians in your new location were quite condescending. They boasted their outfits to the poor, which could disgust even a man that lacked emotions. They seemed to be very social, attending their friends parties, even if they were still sore from the last soiree. The majority of them seemed to have boyfriends or girlfriends, telling their friends they'll be married. Marriage, so many people wanted it. The thought of that idea made you suppress an unwanted smile.

"I'm going to be married to William soon, just imagine the size of the wedding!" One woman exclaimed, allowing her friends to examine her ring. Jacob wouldn't mind if you were a few minutes late, so you decided to lean on a lamppost nearby. You strained your neck a bit, eavesdropping on the group of women. One woman was wearing a light blue dress, a navy blue ribbon trimming on the ends of the ostentatious dress.

"Oh, it will be huge! William did treat you special!" Another woman chimed in, her accent barely noticeable. Her dress was a light beige, with syrup brown trimmings. Her hair was carelessly cascading down her face, causing her to swipe at it every-so-often. Her cheekbones were the most noticeable thing on her face, aside from her light green eyes.

"I know, I didn't even care that it was an arranged marriage!" The first woman stated, causing you to widen your eyes a bit. This woman was going to be married, just like you; unwillingly. You knew she wanted freedom from her reality, she wanted her fantasies to become real, just as much as you did. Why was it that only few people wanted freedom from their lives? In London, you had assumed many people wanted an escape form their realities.

"Miss? May I say something?" You interrupted the conversation, getting a small nod from her.

"What is it?" The woman's friend sighed out of annoyance, crossing her arms over her torso.

"I'm a suffragette," You stated, feeling proud of your rank, "and I was wondering, do you really want to get married to this man?" The woman arched her eyebrows at you, seeming surprised. You knew why she was surprised; nobody had ever asked her that question before. Nobody ever cared about the bride in an arranged marriage. The woman thought about the question, eventually reaching a conclusion.

"Well--" The woman began, answering truthfully.

"She does!" Her friend interrupted her, lying. You knew her friend was going to interrupt you, so you dropped the conversation, annoyed at the lying woman. Why did she defend the groom so much? You shook your head at the thought, before regaining your path to the park. The annoyed woman began bickering with her friend, before walking off, her hands clenched into fists. She turned the corner, before she disappeared.

You grabbed your pouch full of bread crumbs, before you swiveled and collided with a woman. You fell back a bit, almost hitting the cobblestones beneath you. A calloused hand snatched yours, before lifting you up.

"Thank you. . ." You trailed off, realizing you were caught by two Blighters-- Brandon sent them. You tried to struggle free from the Blighter's grasp. You suddenly noticed a distorted figure in the distance, barely making it out.

"Found her, Boss!" A male Blighter exclaimed, being shunned by the figure. You blinked a few times, the figure beginning to become more recognizable. Brandon Abbot, he found you. You wanted to begin sobbing, but you couldn't look weak in front of him. He found you, he was going to murder you; you could sense it. The sun was still blazing in the sky, and you could've been fifteen minutes late by now. You analyzed the two Blighters, one of them being the woman that argued with her friend.

"Look at me, please." Brandon quietly commanded you, were your eyes closed? You reluctantly opened your eyes, observing Brandon. He was still immature, yet he hid it with his formal posture. He had a smile on him, not a genuine one. He had a mocking smile, implying he though of you as an animal in a cage. You were a crow in a cage, in Brandon's eyes.

"Poor Jacob, thought he could save you from me. . . so naïve, so stupid." Brandon hissed, gesturing the Blighter to tighten his grip on you. You winced at the pain, before the Abbot male gestured the woman. She disappeared once more, but you knew she was going to return with something.

"He thought he could hide you, a beautiful dove-- a bitch of a crow." Brandon stated, closing his eyes to think of something. The Blighter male mumbled something under his breath, before kicking you to the cobbles. You were alarmed, barely able to think of anything before a foot collided with your stomach. You let out a yelp of pain, before Brandon opened his royal blue eyes again. He smiled; a sinister, Brandon smile of his.

"Oh (Y/N), we wanted to teach you a lesson, but your friend is returning. Listen, if you want Jacob to burn alive, I expect you to keep this meeting a secret. I'll be meeting you later this month. I hope your blood stains his hands for years to come." Brandon threatened you, before rushing off with his assistant. Crimson flowed quickly on the cold cobbles below you. You knew that the cuts weren't fatal, you just needed rest.

"(Y/N)," Jacob exclaimed, rushing to get to your body. He was worried about you. The younger Frye twin quickly picked you up, his eyes examining you, "what happened?"

"I-I just was pushed out of a carriage is all. . . Those growlers." You lied, causing Jacob to embrace you. You knew your cuts hurt him, more than they could have ever hurt you. You knew Jacob was going to cancel on the park stroll, so instead of feeding the stray birds bread crumbs, you were escorted back to your bookshop. Some civilians were searching through the books you had organized, which caused you to have a faint smile. Your old bookshop never had these many civilians roaming for novels.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs." Jacob calmly suggested, causing you to halt.

"But. . . so many people. . . I need to keep the shop open." You sadly stated, reminding Jacob of his surroundings. The younger Frye twin sighed, before briefly examining the amount of customers. They were already choosing books to buy, some of them already lining up against the counter, awaiting you. There were so many people, even you needed to admit it was overwhelming.

"You go upstairs, I'll take care of the shop today." Jacob answered, causing you to widen your eyes. The younger Frye twin approached the counter, getting ready to receive novels from civilians. You smiled warmly at him, before retreating upstairs. Jacob was taking control of the shop, but not for the profit. He genuinely wanted to help you. No man ever did something so honorable.

Your cuts and bruises were healing, but you knew that for a few days your visits with Jacob would be more frequent. Somehow, that thought didn't bother you. Brandon finding you, that did. Maybe you weren't careful enough when you were roaming the streets? Blighters were everywhere, you could've passed sixteen without noticing one. The sun was still blazing outside, yet you were tempted to fall into a slumber. You shook of your sleepiness and decided that checking your map would be better and more productive.

***

"I thought you might want this." Jacob teased, setting a pouch of pounds in front of you. Business went by fast, Jacob was already finished with the crowd of civilians. You checked outside, it was noon. You turned back to the sanguine man, observing the pouch he laid in front of you.

"Thank you, how many pounds do I owe you?" You asked, almost on instinct.

"Nonsense, I did it because I wanted too. I hope to see you tomorrow?" Jacob offered, reminding you of what had happened today.

"Of course, see you tomorrow." You accepted the offer, still in shock by Jacob's generosity. The younger Frye twin nodded, before politely kissing your cheeks. He took his leave, taking the initiative to close your bookshop for you. He waved goodbye, before disappearing into the crowd of gentry.

You smiled faintly, despite what happened with Brandon. You knew that your relationship with Jacob was far more than just an assassin and a bookshop owner. You two were now companions, and that was what made you smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to give this story a good twist :') This story might end soon, or not. I'm still not sure, but I'm glad so many people enjoy this story. You don't know how much that means to me! :D


	10. Assassination Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm so glad that everybody loves my story, but I have a HUGE announcement I need to make. The Crow in the Cage will be ending soon. It's not because I'm bored of this story, don't worry :D It's just that I have more stories I'm thinking about. Also, because I'm in multiple fandoms (Assassin's Creed, BBC's Sherlock, etc.) I'm going to be writing stories for them too. At the end of this chapter, I'll tell you the plans for The Crow in the Cage.

Today was a day that you feared for. You had walked aboard the Frye twins' train hideout, where a crowd of people circle a desk that was placed in the center of the compartment. Everybody was murmuring to themselves, each conversation overlapping another in volume. 

Your curiosity was soon shattered when the younger Frye twin peered out from a window in another carriage of the train, he was discussing something with Evie. An unoccupied chair was visible in your peripheral vision, so you decided to set your belongings on it. A man with a patched greyish-green and mustard yellow uniform offered to guard your belongings. You accepted his offer, before maneuvering your path around the attendants of the hideout.

You reached the twins, who had been having an argument again. You could tell now, both of them were quite frustrated at each other. Before them laid a map of a structure, with shaded windows, doors, and occasional people. You knew what the map was detailing. Jacob had discussed Brandon's assassination with you quite vaguely, but you could comprehend that he was going to try his best, or easiest way, to assassinate the Abbot man. The siblings ignored your presence in the room, which gave you time to check the blueprints. Jacob and Evie were spotted commonly around London, so their skills were often observed. You closed the door behind you, expecting the door to silently close. Instead, it creaked on its hinges, which caused the siblings to turn their heads to face you.

"(Y/N), excuse my brother. We were having an argument over something." Evie stated, sharply facing her younger brother. Jacob's hazel eyes looked away from her glance, before fixating them on you.

"Why were you fighting?" You asked, regretting the question. You had so many more, though you asked an irrelevant one. You could've asked about the crowd of people circling a small desk, the contents on it unknown to you. Before Jacob could answer your inquiry, a small figure opened the door. It was Clara. Jacob's face suddenly expressed happiness, as Clara snatched a clutter of letters from her pockets. She quickly handed them to her Boss, before wiping her dirty palms on her pine green dress. You arched an eyebrow at the exchange, before Clara gave you a confused glance.

"Why are the twins 'aving a fight?" The oblivious child asked, observing the siblings face away from one another. They acted as though they were both ten-years-old, causing Clara to act more mature than the two Frye children. You had hoped your question was going to be forgotten, so you could ask another one instead.

"The map here, it's blueprints. Blueprints for Brandon's old stronghold." Jacob stated, as if he had read your thoughts. An old stronghold? By now, it would probably have been abandoned, and wrecked down for extra space for a new owner.

"Brandon still needs this stronghold; every space counts. Jacob wants to fight for it, one versus one. He'll ambush Brandon, enough time for the Rooks to join the fight and eventually murder Brandon." Evie explained, acknowledging Clara's presence in the small compartment. The child soon checked the map, equally as confused as you were. The only difference was: Clara didn't really need to know what was going to happen. You liked her company either way, she was one of the most optimistic civilians of London. She was business savvy, which was why she could bargain with Jacob.

"What're you guys talking about?" The O'Dea child asked, almost being interrupted by the younger Frye twin.

"Brandon's assassination." Jacob nonchalantly replied. You wanted to stop the assassination, but a part of your brain kept your mouth shut, as if it were taped permanently. The siblings proceeded to argue with one another, debating which entry point should be used to reach Brandon. You wanted to tell Jacob about Brandon, and the threat he gave to you, but you could only observe.

"We need a way for the Rooks to easily ambush Brandon!" Evie exclaimed, causing Jacob to roll his eyes and frown to express his annoyance. You wanted to stop their argument and tell them they were wasting their breath, but you couldn't find the correct sentence to summarize your thoughts. You could only mutter something inaudible, even to Clara.

"No, we should just finish him off quickly!" Jacob retorted, before they had another heated argument. Clara tried to calm them both down, failing multiple times. While the three were distracted, you were able to walk out, hoping nobody saw you. 

You gathered your possessions, wanting to escape the hideout. The thought of Jacob dying was too much to think about, you wanted to get back to your calm bookshop, away from the planning. You couldn't stop or prevent Brandon's death, and what would happen if you did? You would be killed instead, and Jacob would have the burden of your death. Every thought and output of your plans seemed to end with someone dying. There was no way out of this, either you were going to get unwillingly married, or Jacob was going to get killed.

You descended down the cold streets of London, not caring that you were unarmed. The fact that it was night didn't seem to stop you from walking through the streets. Fresh air was good for you now, it helped clear your mind. You entered your bookshop, still focused on Brandon's threat. If he died, Jacob would die too. You locked your shop's door, nobody would want a book at this time of night anyways.

You ascended to your bedroom, gently setting your belongings on a nearby desk. The scenery was visible through your window, though it was blurry due to the dirty glass. You opened the window, wanting to feel the cold air outside once more. Leaving the window unguarded, you began rummaging through the clutter of items on your desk, hoping that young lad didn't steal anything from you. Before you could check, a small creak behind you caused you to curse yourself. You forgot to lock the window, anybody could be behind you. You turned around, witnessing Jacob on the windowsill.

"Sorry about that. . . conversation between my sister." Jacob joked, waiting before you allowed him inside your bedroom. You sighed, gesturing Jacob to enter the small room. He quickly obliged, leaping form the windowsill into your room.

"It's fine, but. . . don't." You stated, clutching a random object. The younger Frye twin arched a bushy eyebrow at you, expecting you to laugh. Was this a joke? You began to tear up at the truth of the matter, the truth that Brandon could never be murdered by an assassin. Jacob closed the window, before turning to face you once more. He slowly stepped closer to you, before embracing you.

"What do you mean?" He asked, his hug being the only welcoming thing that happened to you today.

"I mean. . . Brandon. You can't kill him, he'll kill you. The Blighters will find you, they'll kill you!" You blurted out unexpectedly, before facing away from the man once more. There was a silence in your room, before Jacob sighed. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. This conversation wasn't meant for jokes, teasing, or cocky smiles. Right now, Jacob needed to be serious, and he knew he did.

"Do you really think I care about myself? If you survive, what does it matter?" Jacob asked, his fingers intertwining with yours.

"If you don't survive, so many people would care about your death. The Rooks, Evie, Henry. . . me." You responded, unsure how Jacob would react. This was your confession, this was how you told Jacob you loved him. The younger Frye twin suppressed a smile, but failed. The corners of his mouth perked up, before he grasped your hands.

"I love you (Y/N), and I'll die, just to protect you. This arrange marriage, it isn't what you deserve. You deserve much more. . ." Jacob trailed off, before leaning closer to you. You could only blush, the red on your cheek visible. You didn't want to lean away, so you sat still, allowing Jacob's lips to brush your lips. You knew this was wrong, you were going to have a wedding in six weeks. Yet, this was what you wanted more than anything, to kiss Jacob. You wanted to be with this man, he was kinder than Brandon would ever be.

"Thank you Jacob, you don't know how long I've wanted to tell you." You sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off of you.

"I can say the same thing." Jacob teased, causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

"What do you mean?" You asked, almost releasing your hands from his.

"(Y/N), I've confessed my love to you. Ever since I met you, I knew I wanted to be with you. . . I'm sorry if I sound sappy right now, but it's true." He stated, trying to stay serious. Your blush grew heavier, before you become aware: Jacob locked the window behind you both.

"I love you too, Jacob." You replied, before you felt your undergarments becoming wet. You wanted to hide it from the younger Frye twin, but you could sense that he saw.

"Do you want me to take care of that?" Jacob whispered in his deep voice, causing you to widen your eyes. You hoped that the younger Frye twin wasn't lying, so without hesitation, you obliged to his offer;

"Yes, please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in the final three chapters (which I'm already planning) here is what will happen:
> 
> Chapter 11: What everybody wants to happen :D
> 
> Chapter 12: What everybody wished for when they learned about a certain character. . .
> 
> Chapter 13: The epilogue
> 
> Don't worry though! There will be another Jacob Frye/Reader story, which is actually a continuation of this story :D So, after this story ends, be on the lookout for another story of mine. I don't want to sound sappy, but I'm so happy that this story went as far as it went. Over 100 kudos, and 10 bookmarks. Thank you guys so much :')


	11. Intense

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go ;) I thought I might treat you all to some smut. I think you've all deserved it for all the supporting in this story! Now, for the bad news; I need to end this story :(

"As you wish, (Y/N)." Jacob responded, before he slowly crept near your coverings. He began to unbutton your shirt, causing you to breathe slower, becoming wetter as each button unlocked. A trail of exposed skin left the younger Frye twin frozen in awe, his fingers gently circling the last button that held your shirt together. Jacob's hazel eyes were fixated on the last button finally, after what seemed like the longest and most torturing five seconds you've ever endured.

"Just. . . be gentle." You pleaded, before hearing your last button leaving it's position on your shirt. A layer of your clothing was held behind your back, revealing your pearl white bra. It held your moderate breasts together, something you were insecure about. 

Every other woman seemed to have larger breasts, meanwhile you covered yours' with more articles of clothing. Nobody was going to notice your bodily structure, they were too busy racing across the cobblestone streets, trying to get to their destinations. You didn't care about your frame, you were always concerned with your bookshop. You only cared about your breasts now because Jacob was around you, he was meant to see them.

"You're. . . beautiful." Jacob whispered, his hazel eyes reassuring you. It was so strange, he wasn't staring at your body, his eyes were now focused on yours'. The moonlight made its way into your bedroom, illuminating your face and body. Suddenly, the younger Frye twin lifted you up, before setting you on your oak desk. He began to remove various article of clothing, before he was down to his tight, snowflake white shirt. He slowly stripped off his shirt, exposing his upper-body. You never wondered what Jacob's bare skin would look like, though it was emphasized by the moonlight from the night.

"What if we get caught?" You asked, before Jacob lazily covered the windows, causing the moonlight to vanish from your bedroom. You didn't want to complain to Jacob, you wanted him badly. He was nicer than Brandon, he treated you like a human, Jacob was the perfect man. There wasn't a chance to wonder about anything else but you and Jacob. He reached for your bra, his eyes asking you if you would consent to his actions. You nodded to his actions, before he leaned in for a passionate kiss. His stubble grazed your skin, his fingers unclicking your bra, before he threw the irrelevant article of clothing on the floor.

Jacob lightly caressed your breasts, tracing them gently. You hadn't had the chance to watch was he was trying to achieve, though you didn't care, you were only concerned with your pleasure. It coursed through you, sending a few shivers and jolts up your spine.

"Don't worry, I promise I'll be gentle with you." Jacob whispered in that deep, masculine voice he possessed. You sighed, before feeling Jacob's fingers trail down to your skirt. He slide them off without much trouble, before reaching your panties. They were soaked from the pleasurable foreplay that you had endured, and the younger Frye twin traced the brim of your panties. Your body ached at his touch, before you began to try and focus on something other than Jacob's actions. The younger Frye twin slide off your panties as well, exposing your wet folds.

Jacob proceeded to caress your clitoris with two of his fingers, which caused you to try and suppress a much needed moan. The older male used his free fingers to trace your slit, causing your blood to begin to boil. His slow actions were capable of a couple moans from you, before he used one of his fingers to enter your sensitive pussy. Brandon had never touched you once, and you had began to become needy. This was finally a chance for you to have your own release, and you weren't going to pass up the pleasurable opportunity.

"Good, Brandon didn't touch you." Jacob stated, as he deepened his finger. He touched the sides of your pussy, wanting to find the piece of skin that would send chills down your spine. You were tight, so Jacob's finger could go deep enough for great pleasure.

"N-No, he didn't. I've managed to keep myself proper for a few months." You replied, causing Jacob to arch an eyebrow. The younger Frye twin smirked, before he added another finger into your entrance. You gulped, becoming loose around Jacob's skilled fingers.

You whimpered around his fingers, your sensitive nub not doing any better than your folds. Jacob stopped messaging your clit, instead using his tongue. You couldn't hold back much longer, letting out a moan. Jacob playfully bit your clit, sending a jolt through your nerves. His fingers deepened into your stretched slit, eventually touching a side of your wet folds.

"Ah! Jacob, please!" You pleaded, confirming Jacob's suspicion. He had found your sweet spot. He began to thrust his fingers into you, torturing you with his pleasurable gestures. You knew this was wrong, having sex with another man while you were supposedly with Brandon. You didn't want this to happen, but a small part of your brain did. You were speechless, and you spread you legs more, out of instinct.

"Close your eyes, trust me." Jacob commanded you, his tongue stopped messaging your clitoris. He took his fingers out of your needing folds, before he licked his wet fingers clean. Your eyes were already closed with pleasure, before you heard your shoes and Jacob's bang against a wall. You then heard a few rustles, which you knew were from his pants. They clashed against the floor forcefully, before you were embraced by the male.

"Jacob, what are you going to do?" You questioned, before you were brought in for a kiss. It was gently, and it distracted you from everything else.

"Just let me loosen you up a bit more." Jacob explained, before he pressed a hand on your chest. You leaned back on the desk, unable to see Jacob, only able to see the ceiling above you. You suddenly felt something wet enter your pussy, it was Jacob's tongue. He began to lick the wet liquid that cascaded down your multiple folds, causing you to mewl out. His tongue, like his fingers, knew just where to go to make your experience pleasurable. His stubble scratched against your flesh, stretching out your wet slit even more. On instinct, you held your clitoris, and began forcefully messaging it.

Jacob wasn't focused on your clitoris, so you needed to occupy it. You had never tried masturbation, only your friends would speak of it. The younger Frye twin suddenly stopped his pleasurable session, admiring you pleasuring yourself. It was a mix of painful, yet pleasurable emotions. Jacob shook his head at your motion, before he held your fingers, and began feeling your clitoris with your fingers. This felt much better than you pleasuring yourself alone, Jacob was experienced after all.

"J-Jacob. . . whatever you may be thinking, just pleasure me with it! Don't tease me any longer!" You begged aloud, before you felt something thrust into you. you jolted up from the feeling, noticing Jacob's fingers and tongue were busy on your neck and torso. You looked at your slit, witnessing Jacob's erect member slamming into you. It was so big, you imagined it would be bigger than Brandon's, though you'd rather not test your theory.

"Tell me if your in pain." Jacob ordered, before thrusting once more into your loose puss. His cock collided with your sweet spot, more jolts being sent up your spine. Now, you were going to cum, you felt it in your stomach.

"More. . ." You asked, not putting energy into your sentences.

"Of course, as you wish." Jacob growled, before thrusting harder and faster into you. You felt your feelings bubbling inside you, before you couldn't hold it back any longer. You came after a few thrusts, the combination of Jacob's actions too much for your nerves. Suddenly, Jacob came too, the white, hot liquid spreading across your legs. You and Jacob screamed from pleasure in unison, before you collapsed into his arms.

Jacob panted heavily, before carrying your limp body onto your bed. You lifted a blanket over you both, covering yourselves with the scarlet covering.

"Don't tell Brandon, he might become mad." Jacob teased, embracing you once more.

"I promise I won't. . ." You retorted, before you and Jacob slept in each other's arms, only to be awoken by wedding bells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, there is just too much stress on my mind. I'm orphaning this work, and leaving AO3. I'm overwhelmed with stress from my school, and I rarely have time to schedule anything properly. I feel like I'm letting you all down. To my BFFLUWD Gothic, you're the sweetest person I've ever met. I'm so glad I've gotten to be your friend, you're a great person :) I love you all.


End file.
